Inevitable Silence
by knightshade
Summary: A tag for After Images.


Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Knight Rider or any of its characters. That honor belongs to Universal. I'm just taking them out for a spin.  
  
The wonderful idea of the link between Michael and Kitt is Gryph's. It's used with permission.  
  
Thanks to Tomy for the guidance and the beta read. Thanks to Apollo for being a nitpicker.  
  
This is a short tag for After Images, so if you haven't read that story, most of this won't make sense. It' rated PG.  
  
  
  
Inevitable Silence  
------------------  
  
  
  
"Is there any chance you can convince your significant other to spend more than the bare minimum allowable time at the fundraiser this weekend?" Devon asked amiably as the semi pulled into the garage.  
  
Bonnie furrowed her brow and sighed. "You ask the impossible, Devon."  
  
He smiled. "It's always worth a try."  
  
"So who's coming? Anyone interesting?" she asked, sorting through the file folders and litter that cluttered her computer bench.  
  
Devon winked at her. "Your friend Mr. Vanto will be there. And I'm sure he'll make you an offer you can't refuse."  
  
Bonnie groaned. "I think Michael has the right idea about these fundraisers."  
  
"Maybe I should excuse you this time around. I'd hate to have you leave for the competition."  
  
Bonnie smirked, thinking of the smarmy software executive who used every Foundation event as an opportunity to offer her a job. "Not likely. Although he did offer me a substantial increase in salary last time -- not to mention an office overlooking the ocean."  
  
Devon had started to gather his things to leave, but paused to raise an eyebrow. "Oh really?"  
  
"Mmmm-hmm," she said coyly. "You know, a view might be kind of nice."  
  
"You wouldn't," he said giving her a mockingly stern glare.  
  
"You're probably right, although those huge offers and signing bonuses look pretty good sometimes." She shrugged. "Of course, if you made me a counter offer, then it wouldn't even be an issue."  
  
Devon folded his arms across his chest, trying to suppress his grin. "If it were up to me, you know I'd be happy to match whatever compensation you were offered, but the board has to approve any 'substantial' increases in salary."  
  
Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Convenient to have a board to hide behind, isn't it?"  
  
"Very." Devon said, escaping from the semi before she could say anything else.  
  
Bonnie finished putting her things away and hoped that Devon hadn't taken any of their conversation seriously. She had no intentions of going anywhere. She was still amazed and relieved that she was wanted at the Foundation at all. After the incident in Northern California, she had been sure she would have to leave, but Devon had forgiven her. It was something she wasn't sure she could have done in his position. But he had. The fact that she had chosen Michael's life over his made her feel horribly guilty when she let it. It had taken a long time to accept that Devon wasn't angry with her. At some point she had just realized that it was stupid to waste time feeling guilty that he might have died, instead of appreciating the fact that he didn't.   
  
She sat down at her computer to look at some software she had been working on. Bonnie was staring quietly at the screen when she felt an odd sensation, like a subtle pop in her head, and then . . . silence. After a moment of confusion, she realized what it was. The battery in her implant had finally run out.  
  
Bonnie pushed her chair back and pulled her knees up to her chest. It was funny, she hadn't even realized the implant had been making any 'noise.' Now it was quiet and she felt like something was missing. Something had changed, irrevocably. She sat and listened to her breathing, missing whatever harmony had been playing along with it in her head. It was recognizable only in its absence.  
  
They had all been a bit concerned about what would happen when the battery ran out. Given that the chip's original intent had been to drive her mad, they had been worried that it would have a nasty surprise in store for her when it died. But as far as she could tell, her heart was still beating; she was still breathing. Nothing was wrong really, just completely different.  
  
She thought about Kitt and wondered if he knew yet. Probably not. They only accessed the link every once in a while. Usually Kitt just sent her an image or two - his white presence when he and Michael had been gone a while, or an image of Michael, alive and well, when she was worried about him. Kitt sent her flowers for her birthday and a ticking clock when he was impatient with how long she was taking to repair him. It had been wonderful to feel like an important part of his life again. Having the link reminded her of the days when he had still been in development and they had spent so much time together. Now that closeness was gone again.  
  
Bonnie stood up, encouraged, in a dazed way, that all of her limbs still worked. She really didn't know what she had been expecting. It seemed like it should have been more catastrophic, somehow -- more obviously life altering. She opened the semi's door and stepped out into the garage. Even though the semi took up the bulk of the space, the room seemed cavernously empty without Kitt. She looked down at his parking space, wondering where they had gone. Michael and Kitt had gotten back a few days earlier, and they were probably enjoying the rare lull between cases. She knew she could call them, but she didn't really want to make a big deal out of it. She just wished that one of them were there to talk to.   
  
***  
  
Bonnie woke up when Michael kissed her forehead.   
  
"Hi," he said softly.  
  
She looked around the bedroom they shared, noticing that the book she had been reading had fallen out of her hand. According to the alarm clock it was after 3 in the afternoon. She stretched, sat up, and pushed her hair back out of her face. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said groggily.  
  
"That's okay. How are you doing?" he asked, his forehead knotted with worry.  
  
So Kitt did know. He must have been keeping closer tabs on the implant than she had thought. And of course he had told Michael, who was here to check on her. "I'm fine," she said, avoiding the implied question.  
  
He sat down on the bed with her and pulled her close. "Bonnie, I'm sorry. Kitt says your implant is dead." Obviously, he thought he was breaking the news to her.  
  
"I know. I felt it happen," she said softly, resting against his shoulder, taking comfort in the musky smell of his leather jacket.  
  
He ran a hand through her hair, and then gently pushed her back so that he could study her face. "Are you okay? Have you seen Dr. Alpert?"  
  
"I'm fine. Just tired." She said. "We knew it was going to happen sometime."  
  
"I know, but . . ." He stopped. Then his eyes glazed and got that far-off, distracted look that gave away his silent conversations with Kitt. "We're both worried."  
  
"I'm fine. Thanks." She wanted to tell him that it felt like she had been ripped away from someone she loved, but she couldn't find the words.   
  
Bonnie curled up against Michael, needing to feel his warmth. Before she tucked her head under his chin, she saw the distant look for a second time. No doubt they were talking about her.   
  
She was an outsider again.   
  
***  
  
Michael was lying on his side, his arm resting across Bonnie's waist. She had fallen back asleep, which worried him -- she wasn't one to nap.  
  
//Michael, I've run every scan I'm capable of, and all of her medical indicators fall within normal ranges. I still think she should see Dr. Alpert to be sure, but it looks like she's fine, physically,// Kitt said over the link.  
  
Michael got the hint that there was something he was holding back. What passed for inflection and tone over the link wasn't quite right.   
  
//And you're sure the chip's completely deactivated? There isn't some self-destruct mode that just hasn't kicked in yet?// Michael asked.  
  
//I'm sure. The battery is the only power source. There's nothing more it can do.// Kitt paused. //But you're still worried.//  
  
//Yeah, buddy. I can't help it. Instinct.// He felt Kitt smile, sadly.  
  
//The implant is completely dead, Michael.// Kitt's normally white presence wavered and darkened a bit as the thoughts came across the link.  
  
//How are you doing with all of this? Are you okay?// Michael asked, worried about his partner too.  
  
//I'm afraid I'm going to miss it, Michael. It's hard to explain because it was so different from our link. I can sense what you're feeling, but in Bonnie's case, it was just images. And they had to be combined with other things I know about her to make sense.//  
  
Michael waited for Kitt to continue, sensing that there was more he wanted to say.  
  
//I feel like there wasn't enough time to make sense of it all. I've known Bonnie longer than anyone else. She was there from the beginning, and yet, I don't always understand her. I don't mean this flippantly, but sometimes making sense of people is kind of like a puzzle. I spent years collecting pieces that I carefully put together to get a picture of who Bonnie is. And when the link was activated, I was given a whole new set of pieces. It was intriguing to see what they were and how they fit. And now those pieces have been taken away, before I even had a chance to figure out where they belong.//  
  
//I think I know how you feel, Kitt, but you don't need to have a link to understand her.//  
  
//I know, but it's more than that.// He hesitated. //Michael, I have always been a bit insecure about being an artificial life. I have a hard time believing that people really care about me.//  
  
//I care about you. And so does Bonnie,// Michael said, instinctively reassuring his partner.  
  
//I know you do. Having the link with you has been wonderful for making me believe what I always hoped was true. I know you care because I can feel it in ways I never could before.// He stopped and Michael could tell he was struggling. //Humans have so many little ways of showing each other their love that I just can't share. Most of them are physical, like hugs or friendly touches -- tactile things to reinforce the feelings behind their words. Michael, I can't even give someone a present without help and I'm incapable of giving or receiving a hug. But with a link, I can.//  
  
//Kitt, don't sell yourself short. You have plenty of ways to show that you care.//  
  
//But it's nice to have such a direct way of doing it. And it's also wonderful to get that back from people. I know that Bonnie loves me, but to see it in a way that is so unrehearsed and honest is an entirely different experience. It's similar to those rare times when you can actually hear in someone's voice that they're truly happy to see you. The colors and the quality of the images that came from her had this happiness and love that I just can't describe. I'll miss that more than I can say.//  
  
Michael reached through the link and gave his partner a hug.  
  
//Kitt, I love you, and Bonnie loves you. You can always count on that.//  
  
//Thank you, Michael.// Kitt said, his presence still darker than normal and filled with melancholy, but there was a part of it that was hopeful.   
  
Michael turned his attention back to Bonnie, who was still sleeping, peacefully, as far as he could tell. //Kitt, I don't suppose you got anything from her when the link went dead?//  
  
//No. I've been polling it daily over the past few months. I wanted to be sure I knew when it died. I checked it this morning and it just didn't respond. That was the only indication I had.// Kitt paused. //But there is something else. I said her medical indicators fall within normal ranges, which is true, but her serotonin levels are lower than normal.//  
  
//Could that be caused by the implant?// Michael asked, worried again.  
  
//Not directly, Michael. Serotonin levels typically fall when people are upset or depressed.//   
  
//Oh.// Michael said, carefully propping himself up so that he could look at Bonnie while she slept.   
  
//I don't know what to do about it,// Kitt said, letting Michael see the worry and anxiety he was feeling.  
  
//I'm not sure either, Kitt.//  
  
//Michael, for me, losing the link is upsetting, but it's not the horrible experience that it was when the link between you and I was severed. But I don't know what its like for her.//  
  
//And you have another link to turn to,// Michael said, reading Kitt's guilt. He thought back to the times when he and Kitt had been separated. Losing the link had made him feel achingly, painfully, empty. If the link with Bonnie were even a small fraction of that intensity, then she would probably be feeling very lonely and lost.  
  
//So what do we do?//  
  
Michael thought for a moment. //I think we just try to keep her close for a while. She's probably feeling the same way you are -- missing those concrete ways of knowing where she stands with you. Maybe she just needs a reminder that you still love her and that you're still there for her.//  
  
//Michael, of course I still love her. Losing the link doesn't change that.//  
  
//You know that. And I know that. But it probably wouldn't hurt to remind her. It might help, if she is feeling lonely.//  
  
//I hope you're right, Michael. I hate the idea that this is painful or upsetting for her. The link was wonderful to have, even if it was only temporary.//  
  
Michael lay back down, nestling his chin against the top of Bonnie's head, but being careful not to wake her. //I'm sure she feels the same way, Kitt. It might just take some time for both of you to adjust.//  
  
  
***  
  
Bonnie took her time getting to her desk. She was still operating in a bit of a fog and she wasn't eager to try to sit down and concentrate. She was feeling better than yesterday, but she still couldn't quite shake the melancholy and the feeling that she had lost someone.  
  
Kitt was so much farther away now.  
  
When she unlocked her computer, she was surprised to find an email from him. Cryptically, it said nothing, but there was an executable attached. Bonnie stared at it for a moment before double clicking the file that was simply called 'PS.' Her screen went blank before it filled with a swirling green fractal. Bonnie watched, touched, as it floated in front of her eyes, instead of behind them.  
  
----------------------  
knightshade  
May 6, 2002 


End file.
